1989: Horace Franklin Dunkins, Jr., “just hope that he was not conscious” 1573: Wigbolt Ripperda, Haarlem city governor

1685: James Scott, Duke of Monmouth

July 15th, 2008 Headsman

On this date in 1685, the haughty Duke of Monmouth mounted the scaffold at London’s Tower Hill to suffer beheading for treason, and tipped the headsman with the words, “Here are six guineas for you and do not hack me as you did my Lord Russell. I have heard you struck him four or five times; If you strike me twice, I cannot promise you not to stir.”*

Upon this tart public reminder of his recent and infamous failure of craft, the eponymous executioner Jack Ketch quite came apart.

Monmouth, certainly, would have appreciated the advance that would bring the guillotine. Beheading by a free-swinging axe was a ghoulishly inexact procedure: bad aim, insufficient force, an untimely flinch, or the tough neck muscles of a grizzled campaigner regularly complicated the process. Jack Ketch is sometimes reported a sadist, and sometimes a professional hangman so rarely summoned to give a nobleman the chop that he simply lacked proficiency. Either way, he’d been on the job for a generation by this time: his reputation for infelicity with the blade preceded him.

Historical fiction from the perspective of the Duke of Monmouth.

Monmouth, an illegitimate son of King Charles II, had cause to dread Ketch’s offices for the rebellious culmination of a long power struggle with his uncle, the future King James II.

The personal contest between these men for the throne of England was the echo of the decades-old struggles straining the English polity — the Reformation and the reach of royal authority.

As it became known that the king’s brother James had gone from Catholic sympathizer to Catholic convert, Protestants began maneuvering to keep him from inheriting the crown. For three years, Parliament pushed the Exclusion Bill, which would have excluded James from succession.**

Favor among the bill’s supporters settled on the Protestant playboy Monmouth — politically convenient rumors that he was actually a legitimate child began circulating. “Weak, bad, and beautiful,” this unfriendly-to-Monmouth free book has him; whatever he was, his allies in the House of Commons were handily outmaneuvered. The Exclusion measures failed, and in 1685, James II began his reign as England’s last Roman Catholic monarch.

Monmouth’s hopes had been raised, however, and he proceeded to invade England at Dorset with a somewhat ragtag army that was routed by the Protestant royal troops who remained loyal to James at the Battle of Sedgemoor — not quite the last battle fought on English soil, but the last consequential one (the last fought with pitchforks makes a livelier distinction). Monmouth was caught trying to get away in a shepherd’s disguise. Other fugitives of his cause were hunted mercilessly.

The defeated duke was reputedly not above begging the sovereign for his life; obviously, that didn’t work out. But his cause was a popular one, nearing reverence among some commoners. Jack Ketch may have had a case of the butterflies even before the duke undressed him … and as it turns out, Ketch almost left the scaffold worse than his victim.

Here is the scene in Macaulay’s words:

The hangman addressed himself to his office. But he had been disconcerted by what the Duke had said. The first blow inflicted only a slight wound. The Duke struggled, rose from the block, and looked reproachfully at the executioner. The head sank down once more. The stroke was repeated again and again; but still the neck was not severed, and the body continued to move. Yells of rage and horror rose from the crowd. Ketch flung down the axe with a curse. ‘I cannot do it,’ he said; ‘my heart fails me.’ ‘Take up the axe, man,’ cried the sheriff. ‘Fling him over the rails,’ roared the mob. At length the axe was taken up. Two more blows extinguished the last remains of life; but a knife was used to separate the head from the shoulders. The crowd was wrought up to such an ecstasy of rage that the executioner was in danger of being torn in pieces, and was conveyed away under a strong guard.

In the meantime many handkerchiefs were dipped in the Duke’s blood; for, by a large part of the multitude he was regarded as a martyr who had died for the Protestant religion.

Just the sort of soil for posthumous tall tales — that his execution was bogus and he was in hiding to return again, or had been packed off to France to become the Man in the Iron Mask. One possibly better-founded legend is that his head was set back upon its stump to sit him for what must have been a pungent portrait.

Protestant opponents of James were much thicker on the ground than the Duke’s own person, of course. They soon succeeded where Monmouth had failed.

* Slightly different versions of this address from the Duke to the executioner are recorded. Macaulay omits the “if you strike me twice” clause but adds “My servant will give you some more gold if you do the work well”; a more polite (barely) construction suggests “Do not serve me as you did my Lord Russell.”

** The factions in this dispute — the “Petitioners” (supporting the bill) and the “Abhorrers” (supporting the king) — evolved into the Whig and Tory political parties.

Part of the Themed Set: Embarrassed Executioners.

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Entry Filed under: 17th Century,Beheaded,Botched Executions,Capital Punishment,Death Penalty,England,Execution,Famous Last Words,Gallows Humor,History,Nobility,Notable Participants,Pretenders to the Throne,Public Executions,Royalty,Treason

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15 Responses to “1685: James Scott, Duke of Monmouth”

  1. 1
    ExecutedToday.com » Nine Executed People Who Make Great Halloween Costumes Says:

    [...] all the severed heads and flayed skins around here, the set of execution victims who are Halloween-ready is a limited [...]

  2. 2
    ExecutedToday.com » 1950: James Corbitt, the hangman’s mate Says:

    [...] Hangmen of England: History of Execution from Jack Ketch to Albert Pierrepoint (we’ve met Jack Ketch here before). More dry factual data about Pierrepoint, the father and uncle who preceded him in the [...]

  3. 3
    ExecutedToday.com » Remember to Tip the Headsman Says:

    [...] used to be customary to tip the executioner, as the Duke did. Some ultimate assertion of noble contempt, or simply a bribe in the hopes of a job smoothly [...]

  4. 4
    ExecutedToday.com » 1691: Jack Withrington, highwayman Says:

    [...] three years. Then he entered into the Earl of Oxford’s Regiment of Horse, in which, when Monmouth’s rebellion was suppressed in the West of England, he came up to London, where he soon met [...]

  5. 5
    ExecutedToday.com » 1722: Arundel Cooke and John Woodburne, despite a novel defense Says:

    [...] parliamentarian John Coventry trod on the royal toes and was in consequence beaten up by some of Monmouth’s [...]

  6. 6
    ExecutedToday.com » 1817: Three criminals in Rome, as witnessed by Lord Byron Says:

    [...] two were taken off more cleanly. It is better than the oriental way, and (I should think) than the axe of our ancestors. The pain seems little; and yet the effect to the spectator, and the preparation to the criminal, [...]

  7. 7
    ExecutedToday.com » 1685: Dame Alice Lisle, first victim of the Bloody Assizes Says:

    [...] for harboring fugitives from the Battle of Sedgemoor, where pretender and fellow execution-fodder Monmouth was defeated. Alice Lisle Concealing Fugitives, by Edward Matthew Ward. Detailed views [...]

  8. 8
    ExecutedToday.com » Death Be Not Proud: Executed Today wins a Clio Says:

    [...] Embarrassed headsmen are no pretty sight, but considering the depth and breadth of the history blogging community, I’m red-cheeked under the hood at stuff like this: Given its format — the story behind a different historical execution, every day — Executed Today could by rights be monotonous and depressing. It is testament to “The Headsman’s” skills as a writer and storyteller that his blog is nothing of the sort. An engaging and astonishingly prolific blogger, The Headsman writes witty and accessible prose, jumps from continent to continent and century to century with ease, and despite two years of daily blogging he is still finding new things to do with his premise. [...]

  9. 9
    ExecutedToday.com » Themed Set: Resistance and Rebellion in the Restoration Says:

    [...] affairs of state to affairs of the heart, from the remote wildernesses of the New World to the highways of Albion, [...]

  10. 10
    ExecutedToday.com » 1669: Roux de Marsilly, employer of the Man in the Iron Mask? Says:

    [...] And, of course, for the Catholics and Protestants in England. This struggle would come to a head in due time, to the grief of the [...]

  11. 11
    ExecutedToday.com » 1586: Anthony Babington and fellow plotters, Walsingham’d Says:

    [...] the schism from the comfort of retrospection, those present for its 16th century inception (and long afterward) had the task of sorting out winners and losers on blood-soaked [...]

  12. 12
    ExecutedToday.com » 1492: Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Nearly Headless Nick Says:

    [...] may be historical precedent for Mimsy-Porpington’s death in the botched execution of James Scott, Duke of Monmouth (1685), when the notorious Jack Ketch took five blows to kill the rebel, and finally had to use a [...]

  13. 13
    augustine1blog Says:

    [...] Executed Today records that Monmouth “tipped the headsman with the words, ‘Here are six guineas for you and do not hack me as you did my Lord Russell. I have heard you struck him four or five times; if you strike me twice, I cannot promise you not to stir.” [...]

  14. 14
    ExecutedToday.com » Feast Day of Santa Barbara Says:

    [...] the patron saint of prisoners and of everyone who risks violent death at work, a rare but real occupational hazard for executioners. (We also think that her gig protecting against lightning [...]

  15. 15
    ExecutedToday.com » 1697: John Fenwick, bitter Says:

    [...] You couldn’t say that Fenwick came late to the Jacobite cause; he’d been a strong adherent of the beleaguered Catholic-esque Stuart dynasty, and signed off on the 1685 execution of its previous Protestant challenger Monmouth. [...]

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